The Pheonix Reborn Chapter 2: Reparations and Prep
by BJ1959
Summary: The second chapter of the story of what happens after Voldemort is defeated


HARRY POTTER: THE PHEONIX REBORN  
  
Chapter Two: Reparations and Preparations  
  
Abigail Cross stood looking at the young woman. Obviously, she was a runaway, like so many of the other young girls who would sneak into the shop to steal clothes. She was filthy and had obviously been sleeping without a proper bed for a while. There was dirt in every crease of her skin and her hair was as knotty as a bird's nest. Abbey noted that there were bruises on her cheeks as well. Maybe, she thought, she was something more than just a teenager who spent more energy looking for drugs than taking care of herself.  
"Why don't you just put those back where they belong, dearie." She said sternly and on her guard. She watched carefully, looking for the darting eyes or sharp movements that indicated the girl would either flee or try to attack. Neither came, instead the girl seemed resigned. She turned back to the dryers and, placing the bundle of damp clothes down first, opened the dryer with her left hand.  
Thinking that this scene might be more exciting than her tabloid, or at least more immediate, Woman #2 had put down her magazine and stood to watch.  
"You want me to call the Constable? You keep your eye on her now, I know what that lot can do."   
"No thank you. I've dealt with her type before. I know what I'm doing." Abbey hoped the woman would decide to leave but knew that the prospect of a bit of excitement would keep her watching. Turning back to the young woman, Abbey saw that she had re-closed the dryer door and even started it running again. At least she had some courtesy. "Now, why don't you just go on back into the storeroom and we'll see if we can't handle this situation right here."   
She pointed towards a door in the back of the shop. The young woman turned and started to go. Wheeling suddenly about, the girl started to push past towards the door, but Abbey was expecting this and grabbed at the girls wrist. At the sharp yelp of pain from the young woman, Abbey recoiled and released her grasp. The young woman cradled her arm to her and, although she remained silent, tears were running down her cheeks.  
"That's the ticket. A good beating is what she needs. If you ask me, it's all the parents fault. Spare the rod and spoil the child! It was good enough for my parents when I was a youngster, it ought to work today. But noooo, people today think they know better. They think they should just coddle their kids and let them run all over the place and do as they please. I tell you, I never let MY children behave like that. Let me tell you.."  
Abbey cut in while she could, "Listen, the inspectors will be here in a few minutes. I'm sure they will be wanting a statement from you. Why don't I just nip into the back and get you a pen and some paper so that you can start it now?"  
These words had the desired effect; the woman not only shut up but also sat back down and began to look about her as if expecting the police to burst through the door at any moment. Abbey turned and pointed again to the rear of the shop.  
"Let's just step into the back now, shall we?"  
The young woman, still cradling her injured arm, turned and walked slowly in the direction Abbey had pointed. Using her uninjured hand, she turned the knob and entered the backroom. It was a small but tidy space. There were shelves along the right wall stacked with laundry supplies. A small table served as a desk along the left. There were no windows but there were two other doors, the one in the rear wall was metal, barred and obviously the rear entrance to the shop, the second was next to the table on the left wall. There was one plastic chair by the table and Abbey indicated that the young woman should sit.  
"He hurt you, didn't he? And that's why you ran away." The girl nodded her assent but didn't speak.  
"You know, this will go a lot faster if you just talk to me."  
The girl just looked at her in silence for a moment with her mouth tightly shut. Then when she opened her mouth, the words came in a torrent. "Please don't call the police, please. If you do, he'll find me and then I don't know what will happen. Please, I'm sorry, I didn't take anything. Please, just let me go and you'll never see me again. I can't let him catch me, you don't know what he's like."  
"Shush dearie, I'm not going to call the police. I just wanted to shut that woman up, and unless I'm horribly mistaken, which I rarely am, she is no longer on the premises. Her kind loves to watch other people's troubles then gossip about them all day, but ask her get involved and she turns tail and runs. No, she's gone and the police aren't coming." At this the girl relaxed a little but was still on her guard. "She will be back though, but probably not for a couple of hours."  
"How do you know that?"  
"She left her washing, of course. So let's try to get finished here before she does. Now, what's your name, dear?"  
The young woman looked at her, not sure if she could trust her she was reluctant to say anything, but she did need help and there was no one else. "Granger", she said at last.  
"Granger, that's an unusual name, but it does seem to suit you. Now, Granger, who was it that hurt you, your boyfriend? Husband? Father?"  
"I...I can't tell you his name. I don't want to get you into trouble. Please, I just need to get away."  
"Then where are you going to go? And how are you going to get there? Do you have any friends or family who can help you?"  
The young woman just hung her head and Abbey knew the answer was no, she was alone.  
"Do you have any money? Any at all?"  
"Yes, but the man wouldn't take it. He said it was strange and I got scared and ran."  
She reached into a pocket of her tattered poncho and drew out some odd looking coins. They glittered as she dumped them on the tabletop. Abbey picked one up and examined it. It was silver and eight-sided, she looked at the words and images on the coin but couldn't recognize any of it.  
"It's obviously money, but not English. I can't make out where it's from. Well, if it is money then the bank will know it and be able to change it into pounds for you. I don't know how much this is but anything's a help."  
The girl fidgeted in her seat, but only to get more comfortable, not to try to run again. Abbey saw this and relaxed a little as well. "So, you can't tell me who he is, but can you tell why he hurt you?"  
"He just likes to hurt people. It gives him pleasure to have power."  
"Typical. Many weak men seek pleasure from hurting those who are even weaker." Abbey observed.  
"But he's not weak. He is very powerful, he just likes to hurt people."  
"Well, he's certainly hurt you. Perhaps we should get you to a hospital?"  
"NO! I can't go to a hospital; they'll start asking questions that I can't answer. He'll be able to find me there. No, I have to get away!" Abbey saw the girl get excited again and knew that the hospital was out of the question, but still this girl needed medical attention.  
"Well, at least let's clean you up a bit."  
"Is it that bad?" She asked with a slight cringe.  
"Yes, it is. The loo is right behind you. There's a handheld gizmo on the faucet that does a reasonable shower, there's a floor drain, and everything in there is waterproof so you don't have to worry about splashing. I've cleaned up there myself a few times."  
She stood and turned to the door Abbey pointed to. She opened it and looked about, there was a large commercial sink there and, indeed, there was a handheld showerhead attached to the faucet. There, on a shelf above the sink was soap and even a small bottle of shampoo. She closed the door and began to undress.  
"Granger!" came Abbey's voice through the door. "Here are a couple of clean towels and a flannel for your face."  
"Thank you. Is there anything you could do for my clothes?" After she asked the question she cringed. She could just see the look she was being given from the other side of the door.  
Indeed, Abbey had her head tilted to one side and an eye half closed as she stared at the door in disbelief. Did this girl just forget she was in a laundry? "I'll see what I can do." She called, and then added more quietly, "Perhaps the rubbish man hasn't been by yet."  
Granger finished taking off her tattered clothes and, opening the door a crack, dropped them on the floor outside. She took the washcloth and towels she was handed and shut the door again. As Abbey heard the water being turned on, she picked up the telephone and began to dial.  
* * *  
Harry was startled awake by strange sounds coming from his sitting room. There was the sound of nails scratching against stone and wrapped around it the beatings of wings. Harry left his bedroom and crossed the landing into what was now his sitting room. Hedwig was dashing herself around the ceiling as if trying to fly upwards through it.  
"You stupid git!" Harry scolded her. "There IS a ceiling there you know, you just can't see it. You'd think that after three days you would come to realize that."  
He tried to catch the owl, either to calm her or chuck her out the window depending on how hard she struggled, but she wouldn't allow herself to be caught. Instead she kept attacking the ceiling of the room. Finally, Harry managed to get a hand on one of her legs, but instead of settling down as she would normally do she gouged him with the talons of the other causing a nice cut on his forearm.  
"Blast, Hedwig! What's got into you?" Harry quickly wrapped a handkerchief around the cut to stop the bleeding. "I'd better go see Madam Pomfrey before breakfast now. If I get an infection from this Hedwig, I swear I'll send you back to Privet Drive for the rest of the year."  
The owl paid no heed to this and continued to flutter around the ceiling looking for a way through. Harry hurriedly put on his robes and left his rooms for the infirmary, hoping to get his arm fixed in time for a good breakfast. A few minutes later, Hedwig, now exhausted, returned to her perch and stared at the ceiling.  
Poppy healed the cut almost instantly; it would take longer to get the blood out of his handkerchief. Harry headed down the main corridor towards the rebuilt Great Hall. Turning a corner, he heard a cold slow drawl coming from a doorway to his left and knew at once that it had to be Draco Malfoy, a fellow Hogwarts alumnus but from Slytherin house and Harry's nemesis for his entire school career.  
"Mother, I'm doing what I can, will you just leave me to do it?" Draco's voice was full of anger, "Father was a fool! Throwing everything away for what? To become a lackey for the Dark Lord! And now that Voldemort is dead, he's in Azkaban and I'm left to pick up the pieces."  
The last person Harry wanted to speak to right now was Draco Malfoy, so hunching his head down he tried to slip past the doorway as quietly as possible.  
"HARRY POTTER! Is that you?" Too late, he had been spotted. "I hardly recognized you without that thing on your forehead. You just blend into background now, nothing special about you at all."  
Harry stopped and reluctantly turned back to face Malfoy. He didn't want to talk with Draco but the last thing he was going to do was to turn his back on him. There was no trace of his previous anger on his face and when he spoke it was in the same condescending drawl that never failed to irk Harry.  
"So, tell me, Potter, how does it feel not to have that scar? Not to be special anymore?"  
Harry stopped and thought a moment. "Bloody marvelous, actually. But Draco, tell me, how does it feel to have scars? To have people staring at them all the time?"  
Malfoy's face retained its almost unearthly whiteness but Harry could see his neck and the edges of his ears begin to turn pink. So, the rumors were true. At the end of their fourth year, while returning to London on the Hogwarts Express, a jumble of curses had struck Draco, deservedly, from five different people, one of them Harry, and he had been left unconscious on the floor of the train covered with an alarming collection of boils and pustules. Since no one cared enough to help him, he just lay there for several hours until the house elves that cleaned the train found him. There were rumors all the next year that Draco had spent the summer in St. Mungus's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and although they removed the curses, they couldn't remove the scars they left behind. It was even whispered that Draco, in his vanity, always wore makeup to conceal the scars but when he got really angry the boils began to erupt again.  
"I wouldn't know, Potter." Draco said through tightly pressed lips.  
"So, what are you doing back at Hogwarts, Draccie?" For the first time since they had met, Harry wanted to prolong a conversation with Draco Malfoy, just to see if he would sprout boils.  
"I'm here to help, if you must know Potter. When I heard that the Dark Lord had caused some damage to Hogwarts, I right away came to see what I could do."  
"How very generous of you, Mr. Malfoy." The voice came from behind them; it was Professor McGonagall who still had a knack for appearing at the most opportune times. "There is still much work to be done."  
"Work?" said Draco flustered. "I thought the servants would be doing that. I was thinking perhaps a contribution or something."  
"Oh, Hogwarts has no need for money, my dear Draco, what we do need are strong wands and wizards to use them." She smiled at him in a way that told Potter that more was coming. "Indeed, we need people right now to assist in reinforcing the kitchens. Why don't I have someone show you the way and you can get right to work."  
"The kitchens?" this with even more shock. "I'm not sure I..."  
"Oh, don't worry, I have every confidence in you. Come along, right down this way." She turned to lead Draco down the very corridor she had just emerged from.  
"Don't trouble yourself, Professor. I'm sure I can find my way." With this, Draco began to walk down the hall and turning his head, he called over his shoulder, "Come along, Mother."  
Narcissa Malfoy was Draco's mother, the first time Harry had met her was at the Quidditch World Cup five years ago and then she had been a physically beautiful woman marred only by a haughty sneer on her face that reminded Harry of someone who couldn't get the stench of dung out of their nose. The fall of Voldemort had changed her. She now looked like nothing so much as a pet that has been beaten too often by its owner. Her blonde hair was flat and streaked with a dull gray, her eyes were haunted, with dark bags beneath them, and she walked with the mincing steps of someone who expected bad news to leap out at her from around every corner. She was wearing an expensive looking robe of turquoise with ruby trim, even to Harry, who knew nothing about clothing except how to put it on, it seemed a little too much for tramping around a castle in the midst of being rebuilt.  
"Yes, Draco dear," She called as she skirted around Harry and Professor McGonagall, "but I thought we were going to London today to see the Minis..."  
Draco cut her words off with a look. "We will, Mother, but we have to help out here first."  
Minerva McGonagall, the usually stern Professor, looked at Harry and he could tell that she was working very hard to keep herself from grinning. "We can always use an extra pair of hands, even if they belong to Draco Malfoy."  
"Yes, and speaking of work, what do you need me to do today?" Harry had spent the last three days helping to rebuild the castle. Actually the house elves did most of the work. House elves were very magical creatures but with a strange lot in life. They served wizard families, usually wealthy and powerful ones, as servants for life, almost slave labor, but were capable of extremely powerful magic. They tended to be a bit scatter-brained and usually confusing although absolutely loyal, even to cruel or evil masters. Hogwarts had over a hundred of them, some of them actually paid employees, to do the cooking and much of the routine chores around the castle and grounds. During the reconstruction efforts it was the house elves that did the actual work. Moving, shaping and transfiguring the stone like children playing with clay. All the humans had to do was to coordinate their efforts and make sure that things were sized for beings more than three feet tall. Harry had watched them rebuild the kitchens, which were located directly beneath the Great Hall, and storerooms. In the seven years he had spent here Harry had never stopped to consider the complexity of running a place as large as Hogwarts. The storerooms were huge and a constant stream of foodstuffs and other articles flowed into and out of them everyday.  
"Actually, there's little left to be done today, dear boy." Harry looked at the new Headmistress and again marveled at how she seemed to have changed. She still wore a black ribbon on her maroon robes and Harry knew she still mourned Dumbledore although she did not broadcast her sorrow, but gone was much of the demeanor of the stern instructor. She seemed to be lighter somehow, gentler in her ways and more apt to smile.   
"The day after tomorrow the new term begins" she continued, "and I think we are ready for it. Oh, yes! There is something you can do Harry."  
"What is it?"  
"We need to do some renovations of the Gamekeeper's cottage. Hagrid is down there now and I think he might appreciate some help laying things out."  
"No problem, Professor, but would it be alright if I got a little something to eat first?"  
"Of course not, Harry. They probably won't even begin any real work there for another day or so, just the planning today I'll wager. Go and get yourself a good breakfast."  
Then she did something that totally caught Harry off guard, she reached out and touched his cheek, just a light lying of her palm against it but it was something Harry had never seen her do before. "Now, I must be off. One of the new instructors is about to arrive and we must speak."  
Harry blinked a few times as she moved towards the Entrance Hall and thought that the new job certainly seemed to be agreeing with her. Harry shook his head and entered the Great Hall for breakfast.  
The Hogwarts Great Hall was the largest single room in the castle, there were four long rows of tables, one for each of the four houses, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor, and another shorter row of tables across the front, on a slightly raised dais, for the staff. All of the tables were occupied, the alumni who had come to help rebuild the school buildings were enjoying a hearty breakfast before beginning the day's work. The Hufflepuff table was completely full, and there were some even sitting at the next table over, Slytherin, which seemed to have the least number of returning students. Out of simple habit, Harry began to move towards the Gryffindor table, which was his old house, but stopped when Professor Lupin waved him over to the staff table. Harry smiled as he sat.  
"I guess I just can't get the knack of sitting up here." He said.  
"Don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough."  
Remus Lupin looked jubilant. Usually, at least to Harry's recollection, he appeared haggard and in need of a few square meals. This was because he was a werewolf and most people shunned him. He was used to being out of work and needing to skip a few meals because he lacked the money to pay for them. Even his robes showed the rough life they had led. Although scrupulously clean, they were well worn and patched in several places. Harry had the suspicion that Remus almost liked them that way. In addition to being a lycanthrope, Remus Lupin was a bit of a rogue and in his student days had gotten himself into quite a bit of mischief, along with his three closest friends: James Potter, Harry's father; Sirius Black, Harry's godfather; and Peter Pettigrew, who had betrayed the group to the Dark Lord which led to the deaths of Harry's parents and the wrongful imprisonment of Sirius. This mixture of personality and experience is what made Remus Lupin such an excellent teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts; he kept his classes exciting as well as educational.  
"You certainly look happy, Remus."  
"Do I? Well, yes, I guess I am. For the first time since I graduated from Hogwarts, I think I'm happy, or at least I have the chance for it." Remus thought for a moment, then continued. "You see Harry, all my life people have feared and even hated me. Except for the years I was a student here, I've spent my entire life wandering from one place to another, never settling down or even getting to know anyone. An odd assignment here or there for a year but no prospects of any permanency. Don't get me wrong, those years were great. I won't say that they weren't hard, they were, but I learned an incredible amount of things that I never would have if I hadn't been traveling as much as I did. And there were some really great times. Like that time your dad came to visit me, he told Lily he was only coming for an evening, to play some wizard chess, but he wound up being gone for two weeks because we met up with some..." Seeing the wide-eyed look on Harry's face Remus coughed and continued, "Anyway, I wouldn't trade them for all the gold in Gringott's but I'm getting older now and, frankly, I'm tired. I want a settle down someplace where I can unpack without thinking of when I'll have to repack again. Six years ago, I came back here to Hogwarts and it felt like I had come home, but things being the way they were, I had to leave again. Well, Voldemort is dead now, knock wood," at this Remus tapped his wand lightly on the tabletop, bouncing pale blue sparks across his breakfast, "Sirius has been cleared, and the fates have given me another chance to make myself a home. Harry, I intend to grab that chance, make no mistake about it."  
"I do know what you mean. Growing up with the Dursleys, in a cupboard, being constantly reminded that I didn't belong there and wasn't really wanted wasn't much fun and certainly didn't make me feel at home. Then I came to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore, and Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall and everyone made me feel like this was where I belonged. It was a great feeling but I'm just not sure I want to settle down yet."  
Remus looked at him and smiled. "Harry, you've just turned nineteen. You don't have to settle down. You've barely begun your life, although it has been a full one up to now. I'll bet you're still looking for some direction, huh? Where you want to go and what you want to do."  
Harry tried to return his look but couldn't. What was he going to do now? He just didn't know. Remus had hit on the question that had been nagging at him since he finally understood that Voldemort, and the fight against him, was finished: what next? He shook his head slightly to chase the thoughts away and tucked into his breakfast. Between bites, he looked around the room, seeing whom he could recognize. At the Hufflepuff table was Amos Diggory, a senior official at the Ministry of Magic, and his younger son Andrew. Cedric Diggory, his eldest son was killed by Voldemort the night he returned to power. He had been a sixth year Hogwarts student when he was murdered for standing too close to Harry. At the Ravenclaw table was Cho Chang, she had completed Hogwarts a year ahead of Harry. She looked terrific and Harry still left a nostalgic tug of the crush he had had on her in school. The Gryffindor table seemed packed with redheads and that meant the Weasleys were out in force. Harry saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; Bill, their eldest son; Percy; and the twins Fred and George. Ron, their youngest son and Harry's closest friend, was away searching for Hermione but Harry had no idea where Charlie and Ginny, their only daughter and youngest child, were. Finishing his breakfast, Harry got up from his seat.  
"I guess I'll go over and say "Hello" to the Weasleys." He went over to the Gryffindor table and took a seat across from the twins and next to Molly Weasley. "Hello everyone. Where's the rest of the family?"  
Arthur Weasley replied, "Well, Ron's still out searching for Hermione, I got an owl from him yesterday saying he still hasn't found a clue about where she is. He's starting to lose hope, I think. He'll be in London tomorrow and will be here for the start of term feast. There's going to be a few announcements that he wants to hear in person. Ginny is already working at her new job in the Ministry. She's working in the Muggle Relations Office."  
"And where's Charlie?" Harry asked.  
The whole group suddenly went quiet, from the looks on their faces Harry knew that he had said something desperately wrong and he began to turn his head looking from face to face. The twins just gaped at him and he saw Percy flush. Mrs. Weasley began dapping her eyes with a napkin.  
Bill said, "Harry, didn't you hear?"  
"Hear what? What did I say?"  
Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "I guess you were so busy that you never had time to hear the news. Probably halfway to the Gobi Desert when it happened." His voice trailed off.  
"What happened?" Harry asked.  
"Harry, Charlie was killed in Romania." This was from Bill again. "A couple of days after You-know-who disappeared, a bunch of his Deatheaters came back and caused a stampede among the dragons in the preserve. Charlie rushed in to try to control it. He didn't have time to put on his fireproof suit. He was killed."  
"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm so stupid."  
At this, Molly Weasley grabbed Harry around the shoulders and hugged him so tight Harry could hardly breathe. "No you're not, Harry. You just didn't know. You weren't there after all, you were off searching for...for..." Harry could sense how she was struggling with the name. Most wizards didn't speak Voldemort's name aloud, he had made them so terrified of him that even his name was too much. "VOLDEMORT!" She spat the word and all of her children recoiled at the sound of it. Turning to their unasked question, she answered, "I'm not going to be afraid of him any longer. We beat him and MAY HE ROT! I won't be afraid anymore!"  
Her defiance seemed to spread across the table as one by one her children all nodded.  
"Harry, dear, you had no way of knowing. You sped right off to find V-v-voldemort and when it happened you were elsewhere. It's not your fault."  
"But still, I should have.." Harry hung his head in his embarrassment. How could he have been so dense. They had lost a son and he had just reopened the wound. He couldn't face them. He quickly got up from the table and left.   
"I'll see to this, Molly. You all just finish your breakfast." Arthur Weasley rose and followed Harry out. He caught up to him in the Entrance Hall.  
"Harry! Hold on a moment." Harry stopped and turned. The Weasleys had been like a surrogate family to him, showing him the love and affection that his own Aunt and Uncle had denied. How could he have hurt them like that.  
Arthur looked down at the young man and saw his eyes shining. His heart went out to this boy who had carried such a heavy burden all his life. "Harry, there's no need to be upset."  
"But how could I have been so stupid? I shouldn't've said anything. I should've known."  
Arthur put his arm around him and walked with him out the door. The sun was bright upon them and the day was already warm.  
"Harry, what happened right after You-know..." he stumbled a moment, "Voldemort..."  
"You don't have to say his name." Harry said.  
"No, Molly is right. We beat him. We mustn't let him make us afraid anymore." He continued, "What happened right after Voldemort disappeared from Romania?"  
"I don't know." was Harry's answer. "I got on my broom and started searching for him again."  
"Exactly, and when you found him what did you do?"  
"I came back, told Dumbledore and we when to Mongolia. When we got there, we attacked him.  
"And when Voldemort and the Deatheaters left Mongolia what did you do?"  
"I spent most of a week searching for him until I found him in Egypt, trying to raid the Gringotts holdings there."  
"And so we all went to Egypt to fight. Afterwards, Voldemort disappeared again, and you went off searching for him again."  
"Yeah, but what has that got to do with anything."  
"Harry, listen. We all fought, but when the battle was over, we rested. You always left immediately and searched out Voldemort in his new hiding place. And then when you found him and called the rest of us, you always joined right in the attack."  
"Yeah, so?"  
"Everyone used those short breaks to rest. We healed and we dealt with our loses. During that whole affair the only time you rested was when one of us managed to slip you a sleeping draught."  
Harry irked at this. "I slept."  
"When? An hour here or there? Where? On your broom? Harry, more than anyone, you fought that battle. You didn't take the time to rest because you knew that when you did Voldemort grew stronger. You did more than anyone..."  
"What about Dumbledore?"  
"Dumbledore rested too, Harry. We all had to. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't fly yourself to death out there. That's certainly what Voldemort wanted."  
Harry looked into Mr. Weasley's face. "What do you mean?"  
"Why do you think Voldemort bounced around like that? He was trying to wear us out. He didn't care about his Deatheaters. Most of the ones we captured he had abandoned, left behind when he portkeyed and they had no idea where he went. He was trying to get you, Harry. You were the only one who could track him and he needed to eliminate you before he could even begin to plan an ambush for Dumbledore."  
"Yes, it was Dumbledore he was after! Not me." Harry was stunned. Dumbledore was the Dark Lord's main target, and he, Harry Potter, was just a minor player in the whole affair.  
"Yes, you're right. In order to be victorious, Voldemort would have had to kill Dumbledore, and he knew that he couldn't do that straight up, in a fair fight. The only way to do it would be to ambush him, to take Dumbledore by surprise. But he couldn't ambush Dumbledore as long as you could track him, you see. He had to kill you first, and the best way to do that was to make you fly yourself to exhaustion. Harry, think of it like a game of Wizard's Chess. Dumbledore was the king but you, Harry, you were both knights, dashing about the board and spoiling any attack before Voldemort could really begin it. He needed to eliminate you before he could checkmate Dumbledore and he couldn't. So he lost."  
"But Dumbledore died too, so it turned out a draw."  
"No Harry, it wasn't a draw. My analogy isn't perfect, none ever are. Voldemort is dead, the Deatheaters are either dead too or in prison. The Dark Forces have been defeated, for now. Yes, our side paid a terrible price too. Dumbledore, Charlie, maybe Hermione, and so many others, but we won the war. We won, Harry. Never forget that."  
Harry looked into the eyes of Arthur Weasley. This was something he would have to think about, for now, all he could think of to say was, "I'm sorry about Charlie."  
"So am I, Harry, so am I." Arthur quickly wiped something from his eye. "You'd better go and help Hagrid. He seems to be a bit overwhelmed."  
Harry looked down the sloping grounds and saw Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper and instructor in The Care of Magical Creatures. A half-giant, Hagrid stood about twice as tall as most men and three times as broad. He was surrounded by about a dozen house elves that didn't come up to his knees. They were scampering about trying to avoid getting crushed as Hagrid stamped about waving his arms. Also stamping about was Madam Maxine, a lovely woman who also stood twice Harry's height. The two were obviously having a very animated discussion.  
* * *  
  
The hot water felt glorious and Granger made sure she was well washed. There was little enough shampoo for the quantity of her bushy hair but she made do. Granger began to feel much better, even her injuries hurt less now that she was clean. After making sure that all the soap and dirt had been rinsed down the floor drain, she shut off the water and dried herself off. She wrapped one towel around her body and the other around her hair. She used the flannel to wipe down and dry the surfaces of the room as best she could. This woman was nice enough to help her, the least she could do was be a tidy guest. Finally, she unlocked the door and opened it.  
  
"Feeling better, now that we're all washed up?" It was not Abbey, this woman was older and somehow more bureaucratic looking, as if she didn't just follow the rules, she lived them. Granger drew back and closed the door, afraid that she had been turned in. She was about to lock the door when she heard Abbey's voice.  
  
"Granger, there's no reason to be afraid. This is a friend of mine."  
  
Granger cracked the door to peek out.  
  
"Who is she?"  
  
"She's a nurse who works in a local clinic. I told her that you needed care but couldn't go through the usual routine so she has come down here to take a look at you."  
  
"Come on out, dear. Abbey told me that you've gotten banged up a bit and she just wants to make sure you're going to be alright."  
  
The woman's manner was professional if slightly impersonal. She took hold of Granger's arm and probed about the elbow with her fingers, then up to the shoulder and down to the wrist. Once she was reasonably certain that no bones were broken, she took a firm grasp of the wrist and straightened the arm until Granger winced. She rotated the forearm and the shoulder. Finally, she released the arm and without a word began to examine the wound on her scalp. She opened a large bag and took out a orange ball of yarn, setting this aside she reached in again and removed the rest of her knitting. Then she took out what appeared to be her lunch, in a series of small plastic containers.  
  
"What's next? A rabbit?"  
  
The woman took absolutely no notice of Granger's attempt at humor. "I only have the one bag and this is my break so I brought my lunch along. Now just relax."  
  
At the bottom of the bag at last, she removed some scissors and started clipping at Granger's wet hair. After a minute she had cleared away enough so that she could get a decent look.  
  
"Not too serious, but it should have gotten a few stitches. Cuts too old now though, already starting to heal. It should leave a bit of a scar, luckily it's hidden under all this hair. It looks like it might be a bit inflamed though. I'll just clean it up a bit and put on some ointment. You're very lucky, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been."  
  
Finally, she poked at the bruises on Granger's cheeks. She hmmm'ed a few times but was evidently not displeased.  
  
"No, fractures there either. All in all, I'd say you did get banged up a bit but things aren't so bad. The worst is probably that wrenched elbow you have. Nothing broken and it doesn't look like any serious damage was done to the tendons or ligaments but it will be sore for another week or so. Let me give you a sling for that arm, just to make it more comfortable."  
  
Reaching again into her bag, she withdrew a small packet containing a sling and showed Granger how to put it on.  
  
Granger said, "I would like to thank you for coming here. It was awfully nice of you."  
  
"Well," came the reply, "Abbey here seems to attract lost lambs so I'm used to getting calls from her. You take care of your head, try to keep it clean and dry, also you should take it easy with that arm for awhile, don't rush trying to use it too much."  
  
"Yes, I'll be careful."  
  
The woman packed up her bag again and Abbey rose to see her out.  
  
"Thanks again, Sarah. I owe you one for this."  
  
"You already owe me a lot of these. I'll just add one more to the list."  
  
When Abbey returned she was smiling. "Sarah's a sweet one, don't let her manner put you off. She's always been willing to help out someone who needs a little hand."  
  
"And you, too? I gather that I'm not the first woman to wander in here dirty and come out clean. Speaking of clean, were you able to do anything with my clothes? They're all I have."  
  
"I did with them the only thing that I could do; I threw them in the dustbin."  
  
Granger's mouth began to work but Abbey cut her off. "They were too far gone to even try to clean, but don't worry, there's enough clothing lying about the place here that I should be able to outfit you fairly well."  
  
She reached under the desk and pulled out a large cardboard box filled with assorted pieces of clothing. Rummaging through it, Abbey pulled out a nice red t-shirt and handed it to Granger. Sifting through the contents of the box a little further she came up with a pair of well worn but intact jeans, a pair of shorts and some panties. These she also gave to the young woman and said, "Those should do for a start. Go back into the loo and try them on."  
  
Granger stood and took the bundle into the washroom and began to dress. It was a bit tricky, pulling the t-shirt on over her injured arm but it fit well enough. The jeans were too small but the shorts fit. Granger felt a bit awkward wearing someone else's knickers but figured they were better than nothing, at least for the time being. Now, fully clean and fully dressed, Granger felt like a new woman. Stepping back out into the office, she looked at Abbey.  
  
"I don't know how to thank you. You've really been much too kind considering you caught me trying to steal and all."  
  
"Don't you worry about it, Granger. I know what it's like to be in a tight spot and need a bit of a fresh start."  
  
"I'd like to repay you if I can. I mean I don't have any proper money but if I can change what I have..."  
  
Abbey cut her off, "There's no need to pay me for helping. That's what we're put here for in the first place, to help each other. Just remember, when you see someone who looks like they're trouble, it may well be that all they need is a bit of a helping hand and you've got two of them."  
  
Next: Chapter 3: To Lunch and London  
14 


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